


Night Shift

by visiblemarket



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Constantine (TV)
Genre: F/M, John Constantine Kissing Dudes 2K14, M/M, chas chandler being an adorable daddy bear, i wanted to write the scene but couldn't come up for a good plot around it, in media res start, john constantine being a jealous asshole 2k14, random slice of life snippet, which in practical terms means, zed martin questioning her involvement with these people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 20:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2665193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visiblemarket/pseuds/visiblemarket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"John Constantine being a jealous asshole" pretty much covers it, actually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Shift

"So what do we do? Just go around the bar showing everyone the picture?"

John smirks. John is always smirking, so perhaps it's not worth noting, but whenever he does the chance he's about to do something frustrating skyrockets, so she tries to keep track.

"Place like this, love? Everyone's either drunk or high—"

"Or both," Chas says, low and significant; he and John exchange a look she's not meant to notice.

"Or both, and too bloody self-absorbed to begin with to remembered who's been through an hour ago, much less last week." 

"So? What does that leave us?"

John nods toward the bar; the woman behind it is young, with pitch-black, pin-straight hair, blood red lipstick, and dark tattoos that twine their way up her bare arms and across her chest. She glares at a particularly rowdy group of kids at the far end of the bar, and they quiet instantly and shuffle off to one of the dark and crowded corners. John grins at that, and plucks the picture out of Zed's hand.

"Hey!"

"Trust me, love. This one's my people." 

And he's off, winking at her, turning the collar of his coat, dragging a hand through his already mussed hair and squaring up his shoulders.

He swaggers up to the bar; the movements obscured from Zed's view by the coat, but the line of his body as he settles onto a stool is all insouciant sexuality and thoughtless confidence. The bartender's expression doesn't change at all, even as John leans further forward, hands out as if explaining something.

The bar's too loud and they're too far to hear what John's saying, but the woman's dark eyebrows knit in incredulity, and she slams down a glass with enough force that Chas jumps. Zed looks at him, questioning; Chas shrugs, and glances back toward John, who has turned around and is making his way back, slowly, drink in hand, with a distinct deer in the headlights expression on his face. There's a brief glimmer of amusement in his features when he glances down at his drink.

"Well, that was a trip," he says, to no one in particular. "Does not respect her elders, that one."

She sees Chas roll his eyes, but they don't have time for this: "What? What does that mean? Did you even—"

"Tell you what, love: why don't you have a go of it yourself, eh?" He slides the picture across the table toward her, and shrugs. "Think she might be more receptive to a—" he stops himself, takes a drink. Makes a face like he's just sucked on a lemon. "To you."

Zed stares at him. "Are you serious? You think that just because she didn't respond to all of your," she waves a tense hand at him. “ _Nonsense_ …it means she’s—"

"No!" he snaps, a little quickly, which is answer enough, really. He glowers at his drink for a moment, and then opens his mouth as if to explain himself. Then he closes it, and glances over to where Chas'd been not three seconds before. 

His eyes slide back to the bar, and widen. Zed follows his gaze. Chas is at the far end, where the loud kids had been. His head is down, and the bartender is filling a glass with what looks like club soda. John sighs and turns around. "Good old Chas," he says, with the corner of his mouth quirked up in a fond smile. "Always the right man to send in when you've a tough nut to crack. Should've thought of that before, but..." he shrugs, and takes another drink. He shakes his head and puts the glass down with heavy finality. "Christ, I don't even want to know what she put in this."

Zed bites her lip to hold back a smile, and turns back to watch the bar. Chas has lifted his head; he seems to be talking to the woman, and doing a better job of it than John, if her intent expression is anything to go on. There may even be a slight curve in the previously rigid red line of her mouth. 

She goes to fill his glass again, and makes a slow, subtle show of letting brushing her fingertips over the back of Chas's hand. Zed peeks at John out of the corner of her eye; he's shrugged out of his coat and is glaring at the "No Smoking" placard posted right behind their table, which means he misses the moment the bartender leans over to provide a superior view of her cleavage to anyone who happens to be looking in her direction, but particularly to the individual seated directly in front of her. She smiles: it's a bright smile, very pretty, and Zed hears John make a strange choking noise beside her.

She turns her head, just slightly. His eyes have narrowed, and that’s more than just wounded professional pride in his expression. He turns back around before Zed can say anything. 

“He’s taking a while, isn’t he?” she ventures, because a part of her can simply not resist. John says nothing. “That’s interesting."

John’s head jerks. “What is?” he grinds out, through gritted teeth, Zed would guess.

Zed nods toward the bar: the bartender has one hand out in the air, and Chas is pressing his palm to hers, ducking his head sheepishly as he does. She laughs, and says something as she drops her hand.

“What was that?” John says, who’s given up the pretense that he’s not watching the scene play out.

“‘I bet there’s nothing you can’t those hands around’, I think."

John scoffs and turns around again. “Right. Original."

“He’s showing her the picture now."

“Good."

“She’s writing something down."

“Well done her."

“John—"

“ _What_?"

“He’s coming back."

And he is, looking warily at the obviously petulant line of John’s shoulders as he slumps over his drink. “Well, she didn’t recognize our girl—"

“ _Brilliant_ ,” John says, snorting. “What a thoroughly useless waste of an evening this’s been."

“But she thinks she’s seen some kids with the same jacket,” Chas continues, as if he hadn’t heard him. “They hang out at these…traveling parties on the weekends. She wrote down the address of the next one."

“And?” John says, dipping his head back just enough to give Chas a sharp, lazy smirk.

“And?"

“What else’d she tell you?"

Chas’s brow furrows. “Her band’s playing there tomorrow.” 

John scoffs again, rolls his eyes, and drops his gaze back to his half-finished drink. He chuckles. “‘Hey, mister, come and see my band’, yeah? _Classic._ "

“John—"

“No, mm.” He’s slipped a cigarette between his lips and smirks around it. “'s a classic for a reason, yeah? Good for you, mate, well done." He stands up. “But if you’ll excuse us, some of us’ve got work to do, so—"

“ _John._ "

John half turns toward him, drawing the cigarette from his mouth, which opens as if to snap out a sharp _what_?

Chas grabs him before he can manage it, reeling him in with a firm grasp on his tie, and John’s obviously too shocked to stop him. 

Zed almost considers intervening, if for no other reason than they don’t want to call attention to themselves. But then Chas kisses him, and the belligerent tension that John carries like a shield melts out of him almost instantly. He slides his arms under Chas’s jacket and around his waist; Chas cradles the back of John's head and keeps a steady grip on John’s tie.

They’re still for a moment, eyes shut, almost clinging to each other as they kiss. Nothing wild enough to attract much notice, though the bartender’s eyebrows twitch in surprise and some amusement when Zed catches her eye, before she goes back to wiping down the counter. 

Chas lets go of John’s tie. John slides his hands up to Chas’s chest and shoves, partly forcing him back, partly pushing himself away. “Bugger off, mate,” he says, and turns on his heel. The broad grin on his face fades into an angry glower when he realizes Zed can see him, though not fast enough for her to miss it in the first place. He stalks past her and out the door without a word.

She glances back at Chas, who’s wearing a small, slightly smug smile himself. He just shrugs and picks up John’s coat from where it’s draped over his chair; John’s apparently forgotten it in his rush to get away. “I should probably go—"

“Yes. Yes, you go,” she says, and he does, with nothing but a nod in her direction.

Zed’s left alone, in a dark, smokey, dive of a bar, but honestly? She much prefers that to walking in on whatever’s probably going on upstairs in the alley. Or, god forbid, the cab. 

Yes. She’s going to hope for the alley, get a drink, and give them fifteen minutes. 

Because after all: some of them have got work to do.

 

 

*

**Author's Note:**

> I asked for prompts [on tumblr](http://morethanonepage.tumblr.com/) and received this gift: 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you, random anon! Hope you enjoyed it!


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